


Herbes de Mellifera

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Case Fic, Prompt Fic, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 17:38:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing Countess' garden holds unexpected interest for Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Herbes de Mellifera

**Author's Note:**

> Written for JWP #28: **Botany Bay:** Plants frequently play an important part in Holmesian stories. Pick an herb, flower, or other plant, and make it a key part of your entry today.  
>   
>  **Warnings** : A bit of case!fic with references to another story of mine,[A Taste of Honey](519305). **And absolutely no beta.** This was written in a complete rush. You have been warned.  
> 

  
  
  
  
  
  
“All the gardens are a delight to Her Ladyship.” The head gardener had perhaps more airs and graces than might have been desirable in a lesser establishment, but judging from the lovely grounds, he knew his business, and he showed the same marked anxiety I had seen in all the rest of the staff. The Countess was evidently well-regarded by every member of the estate. The devotion between her and her husband was well-known, as was her care for her children. All this made her sudden disappearance a particularly perplexing, not to mention ominous, matter, even before the arrival of an obscure but vaguely threatening message addressed to the missing woman. The Earl had lost no time in sending for my friend. “But this one is her particular pride and joy. I’ve seen her out here many a time, in all weathers too, but particularly when the weather is warm, as today.”  
  
I looked around the small walled garden in surprise. I had expected to see a lady’s flower-garden, but while there were indeed flowers in bloom in some of the neatly laid-out rows and pathways, they were mostly small, insignificant-looking things, far overshadowed by leaves and foliage of every size and shape and shade of green. The only principal flower of note was lavender, and even its regimented rows spoke more of utility than ornament.  
  
In contrast to the relative plain look of the garden, the air was redolent, almost heavenly, a powerful mix of scents that I could not immediately identify. Strangely, this garden seemed several degrees warmer than the last we had been in; the stone walls must act to reflect the heat of the sun on bright days. And unless my ears deceived me, there was a low but persistent hum.  
  
“What is this place?” Holmes asked, his eyes fixed on one of the rows of plants.  
  
“An herb garden, one laid out to her own design.” The head gardener looked torn between pride and embarrassment. “It’s not like the old herb garden, that’s for certain. She likes that too, but she said it wasn’t good for the more tender plants, and so she had this one made.”  
  
“And the bees?”  
  
Ah, that explained the hum – and my friend’s fixed interest. I looked more closely, and indeed, the low plants closest to the walkway waved and bent under the weight of what must have been hundreds of honeybees, all feasting on the tiny white flowers. Under most circumstances, Holmes only had eyes and mind for matters pertaining directly to whatever case he had in hand, but bees were a notable exception. He had developed an interest in the creatures, an unexpected – and certainly unpredictable, even for Holmes – side effect of [an illness of mine several years ago](519305). That interest, unlike many of his others, did not wax and wane, but came to the front any time he encountered anything to do with the insects.  
  
The gardener grinned, his dignity forgotten. “Remarkable, aren’t they? They can’t seem to get enough of the oregano when it’s in bloom, as it is now, and it’s just the same with the lavender over yonder, and with the rosemary when it’s in season. They love this little garden every bit as much as Her Ladyship. The estate hives have doubled the amount of honey they produce since this garden went in, and that’s the truth.” His smile faltered as he remembered the reason for our presence. “She always leaves at least half the lavender blooms for the bees, instead of taking it all for the still-room.”  
  
Holmes blinked and looked up from his contemplation of the happy bees. His eyes took on that far-away, dreamy expression that always heralded some feat of deductive prowess, some linking of connection of which only he was capable. “Lavender…oregano…Italy…France. Provence!” he murmured to himself. His eyes regained their focus. “Provence, Watson!”  
  
I shook my head, bewildered.  
  
“In the annals of crime, as in everything else, there is nothing new under the sun. And if I am right…” His face settled into the keen, determined lines that heralded the huntsman in pursuit of his rightful quarry. “Come, Watson! We’ve not a moment to waste!”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 28, 2013


End file.
